Burnt
by The King's Lover
Summary: In the scorching heat of the Mojave Wasteland, Lucielle is finding out how easy it is to get burned. Easier still, when you're carrying a torch for a certain sniper. A series of F!Courier x Boone oneshots. Chapter 6 added!
1. Chapter 1: Burnt

**Burnt**

A Fallout: New Vegas Fanfic by Monica/The King's Lover

A/N: I've decided to make this oneshot into a series of oneshots! Here is the synopsis for this chapter: "One Shot / F!Courier x Boone / Deep within Vault 22, Lucielle and Boone must discover how to complete their quest without being burned by an explosion or each other. Possible 'There Stands the Grass' quest spoilers."

Disclaimer: Fallout: New Vegas = Bethesda and others, not me.

* * *

"I need you to stay here," Lucielle told Boone flatly as she pulled her flamethrower, which she had lovingly named "Joan's Revenge," - "Joanie," for short, over her shoulder and into her hands. She always marveled at how cool the metal felt on her skin, even when blistering flames came souring out of the one end. She made a quick check of the fuel. It was a little low, but it was enough to get the job done. Any would be enough.

"Why?" Boone said simply. She looked at him. Even through his dark sunglasses, she could tell his gaze was fixed on Joanie.

Lucielle shrugged, feeling a little self-conscious suddenly. It wasn't like Boone to question her decisions. In fact, in all their weeks together touring the Mojave, he had done nothing but silently support her.

Boone didn't say more, but the weight of his stare was heavy. He didn't approve. But they did not have time to argue. Or not argue. Or have a staring contest. Even as they stood there, Keeley was pumping flammable gas through the vents of Vault 22, floor five. Lucy had to do her end of the bargain and ignite the fumes. It was the only way to completely destroy the spores that were corrupting every living thing in the vault.

"Just stay here," Lucielle told him, as she looked back to her weapon. _In the control room, where you will be safe,_ she added mentally. She made sure Joanie was in high working order. All the appropriate hoses and nozzles seemed to be attached correctly. She double-checked, and tripled checked just to be sure. Anything to distract herself from the fact that Boone had not yet turned away. Then she said, "Keep the door closed behind me."

She stood to leave. He moved quickly and caught her elbow before she could reach the door.

"No," he told her. There was no emotion in his voice, but his grip on her was firm and unyielding.

She stared at his offending hand incredulously. Never had he taken such actions against her. He rarely had an opinion on anything un-Legion related. Besides, she just wanted him to be safe; she was not leaving him behind. Or was there something more to it than that, she wondered. Perhaps he did not agree with her course of action at all.

"You think we shouldn't destroy these spores?" she asked, not raising her line of sight from his hand.

"What?" Boone asked, surprised. His hand retracted in a start. "That's not…" His voice trailed, and he growled a little. He sounded frustrated, but Lucy knew better than to assume that was the case. Boone never showed that much emotion. Finally, he said, "Let me do it."

Lucielle dared a glance in his direction to find him staring at a fixed point on the ground a few feet from him. When she followed his gaze, she saw nothing of interest.

She was beginning to get upset with him. Did he not think her capable? "I can do this myself," she said defensively, raising her chin just a little. "I know my way around a flamethrower."

"I know that," he told her.

She frowned, watching his emotionless face in disbelief. If her own skills were not in question, then did he not think Joanie capable? That was just as insulting. "I keep all my weapons well-maintained." If anyone should have known that, it was Boone, after their many trips to the salvage lot for repairs.

His jaw locked, and … Did she just see a muscle twitch? She blinked, certain she imagined it. Boone didn't get angry. He turned to her in a snap-motion.

She thought he might indeed be upset, but his voice came out level. "All of floor five has been flooded with flammable gas. If you use your flamethrower, you will die."

Lucy stared at him for a long moment, realizing how wrong her earlier assumptions had been. He had not doubted her abilities in the slightest. Still, it felt odd to think that Boone was actually concerned for her well being, when he so rarely seemed to care about anything.

"Her name is Joanie," she said weakly, on reflex. People were always forgetting the names of her weapons - well, except for those select few that she made certain remembered. But those thoughts were secondary to Boone in that moment. He wanted her to live. She shook her head, trying to focus. "I'll find a way to stay safe. I always do." She tried to add a little smile with her words, one of her signature man-snares that had never failed her before. Boone stared right through it until it faded.

"Use a mine," he said.

Lucielle patted her pockets on instinct, but quickly remembered, "We used all those earlier." She knew that before she prepped Joanie. Boone was making her nervous. For the first time since entering the vault, she was beginning to think that maybe she should be nervous.

"Dynamite," he said.

"We sold that for repairs," she replied.

"A grenade, then," he said.

Lucielle shrugged. Those were gone too. Joanie was the only thing that would work. Boone's mouth was a hard line; he knew it too.

"Let's leave," he told her after a moment.

Lucy let out a loud laugh. Boone never backed down. Though under his hard stare, she quickly stifled herself. "You… You're serious?"

He paused for a moment, saying nothing, then nodded.

Lucy was so surprised with this change of his character that she very nearly agreed. "I made a promise to Keeley. The fumes are flooding this level. I can't just walk away."

He didn't say anything, just watched her. _That_ was the Boone she knew.

"I'll just be outside this door. I should be safe from there." She stepped through the doorway to show him physically where she would stand. Eyeing up her situation, she could see the vent around the corner. If she was quick – _very_ quick, she could duck behind the corner and be fine. Unless the fumes had spread to that part of the corridor in so much time. She shook her head. It was too late to think about such things. This was the plan. There was no time to think too hard about every possible circumstance.

"Lucielle," Boone said from within the control room. He had not moved.

"It will be fine. Don't worry," Lucy told him with a shrug and a smirk. "What could possibly go wrong?" When he opened his mouth to reply, she cut him off quickly, "Don't answer that." After one quick, apologetic smile, she closed the door behind her. "Bye, Boone." _Just in case it is goodbye._

Lucielle stepped from the safety of the doorway to have a clear view of her target. The distance seemed further physically than when she eyed it before. Regardless, she had made a promise, made a plan. There was no backing down.

She leveled Joanie, took a long, steady breath and held it. In an instant, she heard a noise, the swiping sound of a door sliding opened, but it was much too late to react. Her finger on the trigger had already pulled when Boone reached for her. Joanie had breathed her fire toward the vent as Lucy's longtime companion yanked her toward the door.

Joanie hit the ground in a clatter as an eruption of fire roared from the vent, immediately igniting the fire in the corridor, not stopping at the corner.

Lucy's arm behind her tingled and then burned, each small hair feeling as if on fire. The small darts of pain dotted up her arm to the shoulder. For one short, terrifying moment, Lucielle was certain that she was going to die.

Boone pulled Lucy into the control room and twisted to smash his hand against the door controls. The fire licked at his back as the door slid closed, and he tripped forward. Lucielle, already off-balance from her aided trip across the hallway, could not steady him, and they both fell, one atop the other, to the ground.

With eyes held tight, Lucy clung to Boone. Preparing for the worst, she awaited the inevitable. Because of Boone's actions, the fire was surely to kill them both. She waited a long moment, her heartbeat thundering. Another minute passed. And then another.

The pain shooting through her arm let her know she wasn't dead. As did the heart that was beating against her chest as fast as her own but did not belong to her. The warm breath on her face, the muscled legs tangled with hers, the hard body that weighed down on her thin frame…

Her eyes snapped open. Boone hovered over her, his beret and sunglasses blown away. She almost didn't recognize him, and yet never had a hint of a worry for her safety. In fact, in that moment, she never felt safer.

His look was transfixed on her face. No, he looked beyond her, to a place she could never hope to see. He didn't move. Lucy wondered if he couldn't. Not until the memory played out and he remembered who and what he was.

For the briefest of moments, Lucielle wished he was thinking about her when he leaned in to kiss her. The pain in her arm be damned, she wanted to kiss him on the floor of the control room without abandon. He had saved her life, but more than that, he had been a constant companion for the past several weeks, holding her up against despair more than he knew.

But he wasn't thinking about her. And he never would.

"Boone," she said when his lips were a hair away from hers. His wife would have never called him that. It broke the trance, and he looked at her as if for the first time. Confusion darkened his eyes, and he rolled away from her.

Lucy stood quickly, ignoring the pain in her arm and the sudden empty feeling that washed over her. "We should return to Keeley," she said with more resolve than she felt. Her hands were shaking. She needed a drink. And a bed off the floor. And a man who was warm. Without looking behind her, she left the room. She frowned when she found Joanie, broken, in the corner she had hoped to keep her safe.

"I've got your back," Boone said from inside, his usual emotionless wall refitted firmly in place. Lucy wished she could say the same for herself.

1.12.11


	2. Chapter 2: Deathwish

A/N: This is the second oneshot in the series, Boone and the Courier go to Bitter Springs to face Boone's past.

Lucielle knew Boone meant to die. His usual steady, detached fighting style was replaced with a raw barbarism. He moved with an abandon she didn't recognize as he ran into the midst of battle, straight to the heart of Bitter Springs. He chose his melee weapon over his rifle, an oddity for any sniper - except one with a death wish.

Though Lucy had other plans for her reckless companion.

Taking the high ground, Lucy had intended to guard the point. But her usual weapon of choice, 'Dallas,' her Marksman Carbine, which would have been perfect for protecting her hill, was not the first weapon she reached for. Dallas was loyal, never-jamming, but the bullet spray was too wide. At that moment, if she did nothing else, Lucy needed to shoot straight.

Lucy's Worn Service Rifle, 'Trudy,' was not of high caliber in the damage department but would shoot straight and far – if Lucy could get her hands to stop shaking. She tried to ignore it, and instead focused on the task at hand, following Boone's trail between Trudy's crosshairs.

Boone was too reckless; he surged into the fray, going for the enemy at the center of a pack. Two legionnaires wrapped around behind him. Lucy took a breath, held it. Her unsteady hands rocked Trudy. She needed a fix, but there was no time to indulge. The Legion wouldn't wait for her to be ready to fight. And Boone was too willing to die to properly watch his own back.

Lucy took another breath and increased the tension in her hands, tightening her hold on her gun. A legionnaire raised his weapon to Boone's back. Lucy prayed, aimed for enemy's head, and pulled the trigger.

She shot low of her mark, but by some miracle, the bullet still penetrated the enemy's flesh, right above the knee. The man made a loud grunt in pain, and Boone turned to finish the job, slicing the man across the neck with his knife.

A small moment of relief flooded Lucy's senses, until she saw another danger creeping up on Boone's six. She tried to take aim, but only the legionnaire's head was exposed over Boone's shoulder. It was a tough shot, though one that she would trust herself to make if her hands were steady. The danger to hit Boone was too great. But if she did nothing, he wouldn't notice. He was so focused on what was ahead of him – too focused.

"Dammit, Boone," she grumbled as she tried to tighten her aim. She took a shot well above the men, but the legionnaire stumbled. He made enough of a noise for Boone to turn and acknowledge him.

With trouble adverted for a moment, Lucy could not deny herself a fix. She was more of a danger without it, and this gave her a bitter sting of self-loathing. She wished she was smarter, then she wouldn't need chems.

Another quick curse muttered, and she reached for a source of relief. She always carried a couple shots of Fixer in her pocket for when the craving struck her in the worst possible moments. She wasn't sure what could be a worse moment than this.

She stabbed the needle into her arm and immediately felt the addiction sate: her nerves steadied and headache subsided. A Fixer wouldn't make her smarter, but it would calm her need. It would let her shoot straight. She just needed to shoot straight.

Lucy found Boone again in her sights. He was surrounded. Even from her distance, she could tell he seemed contented somehow. He thought this was the end.

She leveled Trudy, the gun finally steady in her hands. She wasn't going to let Boone die. They were going to live through this. She wasn't going to fail.

Lucy took her shots, and this time, they were true. Blood splattered, spilled. Bodies fell and piled. The legionnaires were failing, though with them, they were taking casualties, as bodies of civilians littered the settlement.

One last shot from Trudy found its mark, followed by an eerie calm. Lucy's chest heaved from heavy breaths as she moved crosshairs across the settlement of Bitter Springs, looking for a target. A few settlers were crouched over their dead. NCR agents were checking the legionnaires, finishing those that weren't already so.

And then there was Boone. He was stoic in a field of bodies. His muscles tense, he still seemed ready to fight. A frown split his face. He looked lost, confused. His head tilted upward, and she knew he was looking at her through his sunglasses.

Lucy lowered her weapon. A small wave of relief wrapped around her heart for a brief moment before it squeezed into bitterness. Boone almost got himself killed. She was almost unable to save him. Her stomach clenched at the thought. She had so few people left in the Mojave that she trusted. If anything happened to Boone…

By the time he had approached her position, her fear and frustration had built up to a steady outrage.

"Dammit, Boone. What were you thinking?"

He stopped in his stride. "What?"

"You were trying to get yourself killed!" Lucy yelled with an accusatory finger. Not a question, it was fact. And it terrified Lucy.

His frown became more pronounced at her harsh words, but he did not deny it. "I did not ask you to follow me," he told her flatly with his usual unemotional tone.

His continued carelessness cut her deep. She wanted him to deny his alleged death wish. She _needed_ him too. She didn't understand why, but at that moment, the why didn't matter.

"I wasn't going to let you die," Lucielle told him, her voice losing its edge as her anger slighted. A hint of sadness was sneaking inside of her instead.

She closed her eyes briefly. She wanted some Mentats. If she hadn't promised herself that she would never take the chems in front of Boone, she would have devoured the whole box.

When her eyes opened, she found he was no longer facing her.

"There are some things nobody can stop," Boone said. He took a long breath and exhaled slowly. Lucy waited for him to go on. "It would've made sense for things to end here. But now … I'm still waiting."

Lucielle hated this torment Boone was putting himself through, but struggled with what words to offer him for relief. His guilt and regret ran so deeply in him, she doubted if any words would help him. Still, she had to try.

"Boone," she said as she took a step toward him. "Maybe no one is judging you. Maybe things just happen."

He stepped away from her. "If that's how it is, there's not a lot of comfort in knowing it." He paused, and lowered his head a little. "I don't know what I'm suppose to do about all this," he said, his voice at last skirting emotion. Unfortunately the emotion was despair.

Lucy blinked. She was so used to Boone being calm and level that even the slightest sign of humanity startled her. Though she recovered quickly when heartache struck her. She had secretly hoped that he would recover his emotions in a more positive way, perhaps in a way that involved her…A fool's hope, she knew, but her heart dreamed up things her mind had no part in. She pushed those thoughts aside now to try to help him. She'd rather have an emotionless Boone than one that was so…lost.

"You can't take back what you've done, Boone," she told him. "But maybe this regret… Maybe it will set you on a better path."

"I guess it brought us here," he replied. He faced her again. "One less Legion raiding party running loose now. Never a bad thing."

Lucy nodded eagerly. Those monsters gave her nothing but nightmares.

"Still feels like I'm living on borrowed time," he said, his voice growing steadier. To anyone who didn't know Boone, he would sound as monotone as ever. But to Lucielle, who had traveled with him for several weeks, he still sounded a shy uneasy. "But I don't see any reason not to take a lot more of those sons of bitches with me."

Lucielle watched his shoulders pull back as he regained himself completely.

"You got a point," he said at last. "There's still some things I can do before all this is over."

Lucy wanted to tell him how valuable he was to her, both in skill and companionship. She wanted to convince him that there was indeed a great deal he could do before he died - like remember to live again. But she struggled with the right words. Boone was not easily persuaded. And she had so little to offer him, only herself.

When he looked to her, as if expecting her to say something as she so often did, she wondered if promises of a life with her would be enough to convince him to live. She opened her mouth, wanting to try.

"Boone –"

"I'm ready to leave when you are," he said with a small nod. "I'd like to put this place behind us."

"Oh, but I…I…Oh," Lucy mumbled as her courage deflated. She let out a little sigh and bottled up her true feelings once more. "…Let's go."

"I've got your back."

1.19.11


	3. Chapter 3: Bright Light City

A/N: Thank you to everyone for your support of this story! I tried to take a lighter route with this chapter and set up a few things for future chapters. I already have the next 2 chapters planned, so yay! *is excited* Enjoy!

* * *

"I won! I won!" Lucielle announced in excitement as she bounded from her cushioned seat. The slot machine before her flickered and chimed, ringing a call of her victory.

Boone glanced over from his chair beside hers. His was turned away from the wall of flashing slot machines. He looked bored. After a short glimpse over his shoulder to her machine, he shook his head. "No, you didn't."

Lucy ignored his words and his level stare. He was clearly very jealous and just trying to ruin her fun. Elbows on the cushion, she leaned forward, nearing her face to the winnings tray. Then she waited. And waited.

"Lucy."

"Boone, shhh," she said quickly. The machine appeared to be a fickle thing in withholding her winnings. She wondered if Boone had jinxed her somehow with his disbelief. Bah, she really hated machines.

"Lucy –"

"I'm waiting for the prize," she told him. She considered kicking the machine.

He looked over at her. "That's not how it -"

"Boone, please," she said quickly, with a harsh single laugh. "I _know_ how this works." Sort of. Not really. But she wasn't going to tell him that.

She thought his eyes might burn holes in his sunglasses from his intense glare. "Fine," he said, and turned away.

Lucy stuck her tongue out at him, but quickly straightened her expression when he looked back at her. She hoped she looked innocent. He scowled at her in suspicion.

"What?" she asked, her voice a little higher as she asked sweetly. He didn't reply, just looked away.

Lucy began tapping her nails on the edge of the seat cushion. This was taking too long. Something was wrong.

"Boone," she said.

He ignored her.

"Boo-oone," she said again, elongating the 'o' to really, truly annoy him into response.

He grunted and looked at her expectantly. His brow rose ever so slightly.

She hesitated with her question, not wanting to admit failure – especially not to Boone. But she couldn't wait for her prize forever. "I _did_ win, didn't I?"

He didn't miss a beat. "No."

His reaction was so immediate that it startled her. "But - But it flashed and made noise," she said quickly in defense.

He looked away from her. After a moment, he said, "You didn't win, Lucy."

"Oh," she said simply and frowned. She didn't like the way the words fell off Boone's lips, or the way they hung in her ears. She didn't want to hear him say those words in any context. She worried he was not just talking about the machine. "Are you sure?"

Boone nodded quickly, and Lucy's shoulders slumped. Her eyes fell downcast to the worn burgundy carpet under her chair. It was dark from years of abuse and cigarette ash. She stared at it intently, following the lines of indentation where many shoes had stepped before. She couldn't take her eyes off of it, possibly because she didn't want to. She felt embarrassed; she didn't want to face Boone. Not that she really blamed herself. Why would a machine flash so much at a loser? Was it mocking her? Taunting her? She revisited her plan of kicking the thing.

Just as she was about to stand and put her boot right in the machine's flashy parts, something blocked her vision. She blinked and focused on a chip. "The Tops," it read in the middle of a small plastic circle. A hand was holding it. She followed the length of the arm to Boone.

"Yet," he said.

"What?" Lucy asked, confused.

"You didn't win yet," he told her, and nodded his head toward the chip in his hand. "Take it," he said.

Lucy blinked. A second chance? But…for what? For the machine…or for…

"Do you want it or not?" he asked, retracting his hand and his offer.

She reached for his hand and snatched the chip before he could take it away.

The corner of his mouth twitched upward briefly before he pushed away from his chair and began to walk away.

"Boone," she called after him, and he stopped. She didn't know what exactly to say. There was so much she wanted to ask him, but she knew she would sound ridiculous asking. He was waiting; she had to say something. "Thanks," she said softly.

"Yeah," he grumbled.

Lucy looked down to the chip in her hand, a smidgen of hope flickering at the edge of her heart. She immediately tried to quash the feeling, not wanting to admit to it. To have feelings for Boone was an empty prospect. The man himself said he had no future. He certainly wouldn't want anyone around to complicate his death wish. Still…

A strong nudge against her shoulder knocked her off balance, and the chip flung from her hands. She tried to grab it as she fell to the carpet, but the chip landed on its round edge and rolled away from her toward the shoes of men passing by.

Lucy watched in panic as one kicked it, and another walked over it. She looked up to the men's faces, ready to start a fight if necessary to receive her rare gift back, when her breath caught. She recognized that checkered coat and slicked back hair.

"Benny," she breathed, frozen the carpet. She wanted to slink into it and hide. She had heard the man who shot her in the head two months prior was hanging around the Strip, but she had not expected to run into him on her first visit. She didn't want to see him yet; she was not ready to face him. Especially not without a gun. And some Mentats.

Instinctively she reached for the small metal container in her left pocket where she stored her chem of choice. At least she could cover one of the things she needed for a confrontation, she decided. However, three downed Mentats later, Lucy was nearly rolling on the carpet from sated addiction, while Benny and his guard had moved on without so much as a passing glance.

Lucy ran her hands over the hard fibers of the carpeting. Did it always feel so prickly? How old was this carpet anyway, she wondered. It was so rough and worn and…dirty! With a gasp of disgust, she jumped to her feet. Why hadn't she noticed the dirtiness before?

Her eyes flittered about, looking for a sterile place to stand, when she saw the chip lying in the middle of the walkway. That was her chip, she remembered, a gift from … Boone.

Things snapped back into place with a start. She glanced for Benny and saw him at the other end of the casino, surrounded by his guard at the far wall. He hadn't seen her.

Lucy had hoped the Mentats would help her think of a plan to deal with him, but the only result of their use was reinforcement of her original thought to run away. She wasn't ready to face him yet. Her thirst for revenge had diminished in past weeks in the shadow of the growing Legion threat. Not to mention, she was supposed to be accepting an invitation to the "Lucky 38," at that very moment instead of traipsing around the Strip looking for trouble. Logic told her that she just had bigger concerns than Benny at that moment.

She snatched her fallen chip off the floor and turned her sights toward the door without another thought. She slipped her gift into her metal Mentats case – the very safest place it could be, and then put that into her pocket as she made her way to the lobby.

Boone was there waiting with their weapons. He held Dallas, her trusty carbine, out for her as she approached. "Done?" he asked.

"Yes," she said quickly, and retrieved her precious gun. "With everything. I want to leave the Strip."

His head tilted just barely. "You were excited to be here earlier."

"I know, but…I want to leave," she said, stumbling over her words. She frowned, wondering why the Mentats weren't helping with that. Was it time for more already? "I just don't like it here…like I thought I would. I want to go, let's go."

Boone watched her for a long moment. She thought he might comment on her demeanor, but he did not. "Where do you want to go?"

"Freeside," she said quickly. The chem dealer was in Freeside, though she was not going to tell Boone that. "That King wanted to see us. We should go see him. He might have work, and caps, and…" Realizing she was rambling, she let her voice trail. She hoped Boone wouldn't ask any more questions.

"Okay," he said simply, and motioned for the door.

Outside in the night air, she thought she had gotten away with her hiding of certain truths and let out a small breath of relief. But Boone startled her.

"Are you going to tell me what's really going on?" he asked her.

Lucy cursed. She wanted to tell him about Benny, about her crippling Mentats addiction, and about her fear of entering the "Lucky 38," where so few had entered before, but she found that she could not. To tell him of these things would be to admit to him her weaknesses. No one alive knew of Lucy's personal failures, and she meant to keep it that way. Even Boone. Especially Boone.

"No," she replied, but immediately condemned herself. Boone deserved better than to be kept in the dark about everything. He had shared so much about himself with her since Bitter Springs. And the chip in her pocket weighed heavy, reminding her of a small hope of feelings. Could she ask Boone to return her feelings when he knew nothing about her? But could he, if he knew her failures? The debate waged, and neither side was a clear victor.

"Not yet," she told him.

1.27.11


	4. Chapter 4: Addiction

A/N: I decided to do something different with this chapter and switch to Boone's perspective part of the way through. I know this messes with the continuity of the thing, but have to ride these inspiration waves when they hit, ya know? I hope you enjoy! Thank you for reading :)

* * *

"The doctors said it will be fine," Boone told Lucielle, his voice empty of emotion. Lucy wondered how he could manage to stay so calm. She had been there when his leg was riddled with bullet holes at close-range, watched as he collapsed from the pain. She herself dragged his half-conscious body to the Old Mormon Fort from the dank streets of Freeside. If it had been much further, he would have died from blood loss. The Boone that had charged blindly into a Legion camp and lived would have bled out in a gutter from some petty thug "bodyguard." He should have been angry. He should have been angry _with her_.

Lucy knew it was her fault. A simple request from The King turned all wrong. _Hire Orris_, he had said. _Discover why he gets so much business,_ he had said. But she could not find a reason. Orris seemed legitimate to her. She should have known better. She should have seen through him _before_ he and his thugs turned their guns on her and Boone.

"Are you ill?" Boone asked, and Lucy's gaze snapped from Boone's bandaged calf to his face.

"What?" she asked quickly. Her face flushed a little before she regained herself, as she was embarrassed to have been caught staring at his wounds. She didn't want him to know what she had been thinking.

"Your hands are shaking," he said.

Her gaze fell downward to her lap where her hands were twitching ever so slightly. She had not even noticed, though she knew she soon would. The twitching was just the first of many withdrawal symptoms.

She stood abruptly, nearly knocking over her wooden chair in the process. She needed a fix - fast. But not here. Not in front of Boone. "I have to go somewhere," she announced, and turned.

"Lucy," he called after her, and she paused.

She asked him for weeks to use the nickname instead of her real name, Lucielle, and even though he used it quite regularly now, it still surprised her to hear. She glanced over her shoulder at him and found him staring at her. She had a small moment of panic where she thought Boone might know just where she was actually headed, but she contained that fear. She was always very careful around him.

"Stay here," he told her.

"Boone," she breathed, the name escaping her lips in startled reaction. She blinked, knowing she must have imagined his words. Boone wouldn't ask her to stay. But even if he did, it didn't matter. She was not an asset in this condition. She needed to be helpful, and to be helpful, she needed to be smarter. And that meant Mentats.

"I have to," she told him sadly, and with a sliver of regret hanging over her heart, she walked away.

* * *

He didn't know why he followed her. Boone knew he was one of the very last people in the wasteland who should judge another for their vices. And he never gave a damn before how people wanted to waste their lives. But Lucy… This was not how it was suppose to be.

She was the strong one; he was the broken one.

He wasn't going to watch her fall.

"Lucy," he said from behind her.

She jumped, and boxes of Mentats clattered to the sidewalk. He counted seven distinct thuds of cardboard. That meant all drugs and no Fixers, and _that_ meant she had no intention of quitting.

She glanced over her shoulder once, quickly, but did not turn to face him. Immediately she crouched and scrambled to gather her dropped goods. Her hands were visibly struggling to clutch around the boxes, her fingers shaking. Her addiction was worse than he originally thought.

He took an unsteady step toward her, wishing that his leg was not in a cast so that he could kick the Mentats away. Perhaps stomp them into the ground.

"Why are you out here? Your leg, you need… I need…" she said, her voice weaker than he liked. Usually she would challenge him and scold him. She'd demand he take better care of himself.

He ignored her ramblings. "What are you doing?" he said finally, straining to pull the irritation from his voice. _She_ was supposed to be the strong one. _ She_ was supposed to keep _him_ from falling, not the other way around. Hell, his leg did hurt, but what was he suppose to do? Just pretend not to notice that she was becoming a shell of what she once was?

"I just need to be smarter. The fire in Vault 22… that King taking my money… those terminals I just can't understand…" She glanced back at him, at his wounded leg. "Orris," she added with disgust. "If I was smarter, I could… make better decisions. I could… find the right words." She took a long, loud, and uneven breath. "The pills… They help."

"You don't need them," he told her with a small shrug. He did not understand her concern. Sure, her decisions were never the most obvious or the most rational, but they got the job done. There were many more intelligent people who achieved far less. He paused briefly, considering telling her that, but then grunted instead. She knew that already, he decided.

A box in her hand, she began fiddling with the opening.

"This has nothing to do with confidence, Boone," she said sharply as she struggled with the cardboard, and he frowned. She had only ever showed endless patience with him before. He did not care for this new addicted self of hers. "It has everything to do with necessity… and usefulness …and, and… Why won't this box open already?" She snarled at the box in her frustration, and made a motion to throw it – but didn't.

A small voice ticked within Boone, told him to walk away. Lucy was gone. He needed to go back to being alone, to kill Legion, to… die. It didn't matter what was said before. It didn't matter that she had convinced him to keep fighting to live to do more. Nor did it matter that she had taken him to Bitter Springs when he had asked, or that she had followed him to keep him alive when he expected to die.

"I wasn't going to let you die," she had told him then. None of that mattered.

Yet even as he told himself that nothing she had said or done before mattered, he knew everything still meant a hell of a lot.

He took two limping steps and ripped the Mentats from her hand. He pitched them over his shoulder, then grabbed Lucy's wrist before she could reach for more off the ground.

"Boone?" she said softly, confusion shining in her blue eyes. She didn't understand what he was doing or why he was doing it. That made two of them.

"We're going back to the Old Mormon Fort," he said firmly.

"But-"

"Now."

She stuck her chin up a little in defiance, and he resisted a smirk. There was the Lucy he had come to know. Though all thoughts of amusement diminished when she reached for her pocket. He remembered the metal case of Mentats she kept there.

He took her hand into his to stop her. And that's when the world stopped. This feeling of another's hand was so alien and yet so familiar. He couldn't remember the last time he had reached for the touch of a woman. He didn't want to think about the last time. That was a lifetime ago. He was a different person then, a better one.

"Boone," came Lucy's soft voice, seeping into his thoughts to pull him to the present. She did that when he started to lose himself in the past. She always stopped him from going too far into insanity. He was starting to realize how much he relied on her.

Her free hand found his shoulder. He could feel her fingers shaking, even through his clothing. The withdrawal was hitting her hard; she looked like she could barely stand. Her face showed little evidence of pain however, as she watched him with her wide blue eyes. She couldn't tell if he was back from the past yet, he realized. She was waiting for him to react, perhaps to pull away as he did that night in Vault 22 when he almost…

His frown was heavy as he remembered the near kiss, where his lips just barely brushed over hers. Guilt swelled deep within him. He was thinking of his wife, Carla, when he had leaned in, but before the end, he had recognized Lucy. He had wanted to kiss his courier companion, and that thought haunted him.

"We should get you back," she said. A line formed between her brow in worry. "You lost too much blood."

Part of Boone wanted to laugh bitterly at the situation. He had come here wanting to help Lucy, and she was the one helping him instead. Even with half of her functions crippled from withdrawal, she was still the stronger one.

He hated himself because he still wanted to kiss her. He valued the strength in her, and the pride. She threatened to bring something out in him that he had buried long ago. He didn't deserve that, not after the things he had done.

He remembered Carla in a swarm of Legion. He had leveled his gun. What if it were to happen to Lucy? Could he take another shot?

"Boone," Lucy said, gripping his shoulder. Her eyes were wide; she looked frightened. Had he scared her? "Boone."

He swallowed hard, and again built walls around the things better left forgotten. If only he could forget.

"I want you to get help for your addiction," Boone said at last, and Lucy looked relieved at his words.

"I will. I promise," Lucy told him. He stared at her for a long moment, looking for signs of insincerity, but he found none. "Just don't frighten me like that again," she added with a loud exhale.

"I'll try," he promised back.

1.29.11


	5. Chapter 5: Vault 34

A/N: Thank you everyone for your continued support of this fic! Your comments and reviews really help inspire me to keep this fic alive! :D So thank you! This chapter finds our twosome in Vault 34. Enjoy!

* * *

Lucy coughed so hard she could feel it down in her chest. All feeling in her right arm and left leg was lost. Her vision was blurred, colors mixed in nonsensical swirls with only the faintest of outlines. She could just barely decipher the spaces between objects.

The radiation poisoning was slowly crippling her, slicing her functions and mobility. But she was still better off than Boone. The man was very nearly unconscious, shuffling his feet along only at her constant urging. His arm was slung over Lucy's shoulder; she was taking most of the weight. She would for Boone. She had to get him out.

"I'm never coming down into a vault again for as long as I live," Lucy said, her voice gravelly and barely her own. She hoped she would have a chance to see that promise through. She didn't want Vault 34 to be her tomb.

Boone made a throaty sound, though whether it was a cough or a laugh, she wasn't sure. She assumed the first, as Boone was never much of a humorist.

"Stay with me," Lucy told him – commanded him. She needed him to keep walking. She'd never be able to carry him alone. "Please, Boone."

He stumbled on his feet and weighed himself further onto her. His voice was barely discernable when he bit out, "Lucy. Leave me."

Lucy shook her head in frustration. She tired of this argument. "I thought we were over this," she said. "You aren't giving up on me."

"Lucy," Boone grumbled.

She didn't want to hear what he had to say. She tried to shut him out, but his voice, usually so flat, was lined with pain. The sound of it broke her heart.

"Leave me…or we both die," he told her.

"No," she snapped, ignoring the nagging feeling at the edge of her consciousness that knew he was right. "No," she said against her own thoughts. Even if she did leave him, there would be no guarantees she could make it on her own. _Doesn't matter_, she condemned herself. She would never abandon him to this. She would never abandon him ever. "No."

"Lucy."

"Dammit, Boone," Lucy said to him, her strained voice coming out in a growl. Her harshness peaked with the pain in her gut. "I'm not leaving you here."

"No choice," he choked out.

"There is always a choice," Lucy grumbled, and yanked his arm further over her shoulder to support him more. He was heavy, made worse by the radiation poisoning that crippled her strength.

The radiation was a constant, seeping presence, invading her clothing through the tears on her jacket and sinking into her skin. She could feel the entire process in her veins, as the rads squeezed through her system. Each haggard breath was a struggle.

She struggled under the new weight and fell to a knee. Boone's arm slipped away from her, but she caught him in her arms before he could hit the ground. Her efforts only paused the act however, as his full weight was too much for her. They both fell. Boone made no sound as he hit, and Lucy panicked.

"Boone?" she breathed as she looked up from his chest where she had landed. She couldn't see through those cursed sunglasses he always wore. She tossed those aside carelessly and found his eyes closed. "Boone? Wake up!" she pleaded as she gently tapped her hand on the side of his face to rouse him.

His eyes stayed closed, but he grumbled at her incoherently, as if trying to fight to awaken.

Lucy was unsure what to do. She knew she could never carry him to the exit. She didn't know if she could even make it out alone. Perhaps they were going to die in that damned vault, Lucy just didn't know anymore.

She watched Boone's face as she blinked back the tears. She'd always known it might come to this. Life in the Mojave Wasteland, being shot at everyday, offered little to no life insurance. Yet something about dying here, slowly, with Boone – with all the things they left unsaid, unnerved her. She supposed it didn't matter now. Even if they lived to be elderly, they might never speak of the feelings between them.

Her hand still holding Boone's cheek, she ran her thumb across his bottom lip. She remembered the briefest brush of his against her own. That seemed like a lifetime ago. More than anything, she wanted to kiss him again.

"Going to die anyway," she mumbled, her voice coming out in a wheeze. She leaned over him. Hesitation stilled her muscles. She had waited so long to do this only to flounder in the final moments. But she couldn't help it. He was unconscious. Any kiss would have been stolen and hardly a kiss.

She heard a noise like a grunt escape Boone's frowning mouth. His eyes were narrow slits as he stared up at her face. Embarrassment flooded through her. Her first instinct was to pull away in a snap…

"Just do it already," he grumbled disapprovingly.

"What?" Lucy gasped, not trusting her ears.

He blinked and scowled. He wasn't going to repeat himself. Maybe he couldn't. It didn't matter. The command – no, the invitation was there. She just had to lean down and accept it.

She didn't wait.

Her lips found his eagerly, and she kissed him with all the fervor and pent up passion she had withheld for months. She had not realized how desperately she had wanted this man until their lips were locked and his arm reached out slowly to hold her against him.

The kiss gradually broke but her mouth lingered dangerously close to his. She wasn't ready to pull away just yet.

"Lucy," he whispered, his warm breath caressing her cheek. She loved the way he said her name. She wanted to kiss him again, and considered it, until he mouthed, "Go."

Anger swelled in her. "No," she told him.

His brow furrowed ever so slightly at her disobedience. He nudged her gently with his hand on her shoulder in the direction of the exit. "Go," he said again.

"Not without you," she growled.

His eyes fluttered closed; he was getting weaker. "Lucy."

Lucy pushed away from him, fearing too much exposure to his pain-filled face might cause her to break into hysterics. She wanted to cry. Her chest was beginning to hurt; she knew that meant the radiation poisoning was overtaking her vital organs. When it morphed her heart, she would die. She did not have much time left.

There were a few corpses nearby. The flesh appeared picked from the bone, but their clothes still hung loosely upon them. Lucy wondered how long they had been there, or if anyone had wondered what had happened to them. Would anyone wonder about her or Boone?

She crawled over to the nearest. Perhaps there was some sort of identification on them, she wondered. Or Mentats. With Boone's help and constant vigilance, Lucy was able to curb her constant Mentats addiction over the past few weeks. She had promised him that she would never take another tablet. But if they were dying anyway, she did not see the harm.

She reached into the man's pockets. Nothing in the first. A few caps in the second. Reaching into the man's breast pocket found her hand meeting a plastic packet. Lucy frowned. It almost felt like…But it couldn't be… Who would have had it and not used it?

Yet sure enough, when Lucy retrieved the plastic pouch from the corpse's pocket, she was greeted with a large label, "RAD AWAY." The thick black letters were clear even to her blurred vision. She wasn't sure why the man hadn't used this lifesaver before he died, but she was immediately grateful for his misfortune.

Rad Away in hand, she shuffled her way back to Boone. Her fingertips were going numb, but she ignored it. Boone was much worse off than she was; he needed the medicine far more.

"Hold on Boone," she said as she sought to tear the pouch. Her fingertips wouldn't catch the plastic properly. She screamed in frustration with each failed attempt. They were running out of time. She needed a knife.

Boone. He always carried a knife. Without pause, she began digging through Boone's pockets. She found plenty of ammo, but no knife.

"Come on, come on," she pleaded as she continued to search. There! In the pocket closest to his heart, she found it. She withdrew the knife in a fury, barely noticing when a small worn envelope fell with it.

She prepared the Rad Away and hooked Boone up to it. She watched carefully as the pouch began to drain its orange liquid interior. At last allowing herself a small pained breath of relief, she fell back onto her heels.

The envelope on the ground caught her eye. She had not noticed before how fragile and bent it looked. She wondered offhandedly how long Boone had been carrying it around. She knew it must have been important so she reached to return it to his pocket before it got left behind.

Her hand stopped an inch away from the paper. Her vision went in and out of focus, but she saw what was written on the envelope. She wished that she hadn't.

"For Carla," was handwritten in pen across the front.

Lucy felt the world spin a little. She didn't know why she was so surprised to find that Boone carried a letter to his dead wife in the pocket closest to his heart. But she was surprised. And she was hurt.

A small pain that had nothing to do with radiation wrapped around her heart. How could she expect Boone to want and love her when his past was still so fresh and real? Maybe he would never be ready to move on, she reasoned. But who could ask him to? His wife was so cruelly taken. They deserved more time. Boone deserved to be happy. He would never forget what was taken from him, she knew. Just as she knew that she would always be jealous.

Boone stirred, and Lucy tried to return the letter. But her eyes were straining. The world was getting darker around her. She couldn't move her arms. She fell forward, but Boone caught her shoulder.

"What have you done?" he asked, a hint of anger in his voice. Was he mad about the letter? Or the Rad Away? She couldn't tell.

"You dropped that," she mumbled, hoping her words were coherent. She didn't want him to be angry. "I…I didn't read it."

She tried to hold on, to hear his reply. But the blackness was so comforting. It washed away the pain. She fell into it before she could think not to.

* * *

Boone stared with wide, unblinking eyes at the woman collapsed against him. Adrenaline surged through his blood, amplified by the Rad Away coursing through his system, which also made his anger more potent.

She had thought him furious with her for finding his letter to Carla. He was angry about it, but not with her. He was frustrated with himself. Guilt and regret were in constant turmoil with his urge to live on and start over. Thoughts of Carla continuously stilled him against his desire to enjoy Lucy's company…or to love her. And that letter… it was the embodiment of all of his frustrations. It was a reminder of what he once had and lost. Just as it was the noose that kept him from moving on.

Carla deserved better. _Lucy deserves better._

Remembering himself, Boone pulled the Rad Away IV from his arm. He nearly growled at it. Lucy should have used it on herself to escape. She was always saving him. He was collecting more debts than he could pay.

He pulled Lucy into his arms. "I've got you," he told her, in case she could hear. She didn't leave him; he'd never leave her. He saw the letter near his feet, and reached for it. But he stumbled and nearly fell. He knew he would have to put Lucy down to retrieve it. The woman curled her fingers around his shoulder and coughed into his shirt. He couldn't drop her – wouldn't. He doubted he'd have the strength to pick her up again.

He had to get them out. He knew that. His eyes were already starting to burn again. The Rad Away was not a miracle drug; he knew its effects only reversed the radiation poisoning for a short time.

He knew he had to leave the letter behind to save Lucy. And himself.

Boone took a breath and stepped forward. Each step was more difficult than the last, but he pressed on. He had once promised to watch Lucy's back. That promise kept his feet moving ever forward. And he walked, carrying Lucy limp in his arms, from Vault 34, out the tunnel, and into the Mojave morning.

He collapsed at the edge of the NCR sharecropper farms. He heard someone shouting, NCR soldiers approaching. They were safe. Lucy was idolized by the NCR, they would hurry to save her.

He looked at her, lying beside him in the dirt. Gently, he ran the back of his fingers down the side of her face. She tilted her head toward his touch.

"I love you, Boone," she mumbled, and he froze.

"You can't…" he breathed, but she was unconsciousness. She wouldn't argue. His hand fell away, formed a fist against the ground. "I can't give you what you want." He wanted to try, wanted to love her and kiss her and keep her safe and happy. But he was broken. He didn't know if he'd ever be able to love again.

_Too late_, a voice nagged at him, and he passed out.

* * *

Lucy awoke in a medical bed with an IV of Rad Away fixed to her arm. The sun was setting, elongating the shadows through her window across the small room. She followed their trail to the edge of her doorway where Boone was standing, watching her with crossed arms. His brow was drawn together; he looked conflicted.

She frowned. She remembered their kiss. Did he regret it? Her lips pulled down even further as she remembered his letter to his dead wife. Of course he regretted it.

"How do you feel?" he asked her, his voice its usual monotone.

"Fine," she lied, and looked away from him. She couldn't face him. Did he think her some harpy tempting away from his faithful memory? She didn't want to see the resentment in his eyes.

"Lucy…" he began, but she didn't want to hear him say anything. She didn't want him to ruin their kiss together, was desperate for him not to ruin it.

"Go, Boone," she said sadly. She met his eyes just for a moment. He looked surprised. "Just go."

He stood there for a long minute, watching her. Just when she thought she might have to yell at him to leave, he said, "I'll be outside."

When he was finally gone, she wrapped her arms around her knees and cried.

2.14.11


	6. Chapter 6: Broken

**A/N:** Thank you for the continued support for this fanfic! Apologies for the delays in completing this chapter! I know its been forever, but it really took me a long time to figure out where I wanted to go with this story. The last chapter led to a sort of decision making time. Couldn't put it off any longer! Enjoy!

* * *

Lucielle flicked the poker chip with her thumbs on the table so that it spun around on its thin edge. She watched it turning, spinning on its own, until it wobbled over and fell flat. She immediately grabbed it and repeated the process.

As she and Boone sat at that table in the diner of _The Tops_, Lucy knew she was avoiding Boone's judgmental stare by focusing so completely on a silly spinning chip. But the simple action helped her think, and she had a lot to think about.

She and Boone had barely said two words to each other in the two weeks since the Vault 34 incident, where under pretense of death, they had kissed in the dark. And where, when trying to find means to save Boone from death, Lucy had found the letter he always carried for his dead wife.

Lucy spun the chip again, watching as it moved about the table on its own. She didn't want to think about the letter or what it meant. She didn't want to think about Boone still carrying a torch for a woman he could never have, but would always, always want. She couldn't compete with that.

She didn't want to think about it, but it was all she could think about for the past two weeks. She knew she would never have Boone, and that left her feeling nothing but loss. Even with Boone still at her side, things just weren't the same. She wanted to talk to him about it, as usually talked quite a lot. She always thought Boone liked that, even though he never said so. Still, she was at a loss how to address the issue. Could she really just ask him to let go of his dead wife so that they could be together? No, she didn't think she could.

All of these thoughts reached a peak when Lucy finally built up the courage to face Benny again. She only meant to get him alone to take the Platinum Chip from him without worrying about his lackeys hurting her, but what he offered was indeed tempting - especially to a woman who was recently rejected and hurt. Benny was an attractive man in his own way, and she knew a night with him wouldn't be overly disappointing. Still, something was holding her back, and it was that reason that she was sitting in the diner with Boone rather than scurrying up the elevator to Benny's room.

Benny's room key was heavy in Lucy's pocket as she gave the chip another turn. She dared a glance at Boone, who was staring at the spinning chip with as much intensity as she must have been. He was undoubtedly trapped in his own thoughts, but then, he usually was. She hated to put him in these positions of choice, but maybe that's why she was doing this to begin with. If she had a thing with Benny, then perhaps she could let go of Boone, and he could go on to his continual grieving in his own way, just as he wanted. She was trying to give him an out.

She hadn't told him much about the situation, simply that she didn't need him to join her and that she would see him in the morning. That in and of itself was perhaps enough for him to know what she was planning. At least, she hoped it was. She didn't want to have to talk about it. She just wanted to do it. If she talked about it too much, she didn't think she'd be able to go through with it. But it was important that she go through with it, so that both her and Boone could move on.

At last Boone met her eyes and held them with a ferocity she had never seen before. But then, his gaze was usually hidden behind dark sunglasses. He had lost his favorite pair in the Vault 34 and had yet to replace them.

"He shot you in the head," Boone said, his voice monotone but his eyes narrowed in anger. "He left you in a shallow grave."

"It wasn't personal," Lucy shrugged, but of course, it was still a valid point. She tried not to think too hard about it. "Besides, if I crossed off everyone who ever took a shot at me from my list of eligible men, I'd never have a date." Hell, shooting at each other was a type of foreplay in New Vegas.

Boone's gaze was unwavering for a long moment, as if trying to tell her something he couldn't say with words, but when she did not reply, it fell away.

Lucy knew what he wanted to say. _He_ never took a shot at her, but she refused to acknowledge it, as he wasn't exactly on the list of eligible men to start with.

The chip wobbled on the table, and Lucy snatched it once more. She held it in her hand for a moment, rubbing her thumb over the smooth edge. She remembered when Boone had given her this chip, on their last visit to _The Tops_. Perhaps she was a fool for holding onto the thing for so long. She set it onto the table flatly and moved to rise.

It was time to move on.

* * *

"Lucy," Boone said quickly, on instinct.

She looked back at him in apparent annoyance, but he could see beyond that. He could see the hurt in her eyes, the same hurt that had been there since Vault 34. She was looking expectant, waiting for him to say something. He didn't know what to say. Only one thing sprang to his mind.

"Don't," he told her, even though he knew he had no right to demand her this. She deserved to have fun and be happy, and she could take care of herself. He was just a big weight on her personal life, holding her back. But he couldn't stop himself. The idea of this… What she was planning just did not sit right with him.

Immediately, he regretted saying anything though, as tears began to welt in her eyes. He hated that he was a continued source of pain for her. Perhaps it was better this way. Perhaps he should leave her now and not return. She had the chip, and enough allegiances now to always have someone looking out for her. She didn't need him anymore. He was only causing her pain.

She took a long, unsteady breath to calm herself. He always admired her strength.

"Give me one reason why I shouldn't do this," she said very carefully. She couldn't look at him.

He opened his mouth to tell her again that the man in question did shoot her, because her safety was a main concern of his, but she cut him off before he could say a word.

"A different reason," she added.

_I love you, Boone._

The memory hit him in full force, of Lucy's confession. She was near unconscious at the time; he doubted she would even remember saying it. The words had been on his mind since then. She deserved to be loved in return. Was that what she wanted from him? To be loved? Was that the reason she was searching for?

The one reason she wanted was the one he couldn't give. His hear wasn't his own to give. He had locked it away when Carla…_Carla._

Lucy took a step back to him, probably recognizing his return to memory. So often did she bring him to the present. Just a touch from her reminded him of where he was, but he could never forget the past.

"I can't," he told her, hoping he was making the selfless act.

The tears were there again, instantly, and she retracted the hand she had extended toward him like he had slapped her.

He wanted to apologize, but stopped himself. He knew this was the right decision for her. Even if it didn't sit right in the pit of his stomach, he knew he had to let her go.

She turned and walked away without another word. His eyes were fixed on the exit long after she had gone. This was the end. He knew he would never see her again. He would leave. He would stop holding her back, and she would have a chance at happiness in such an unhappy world.

_It should be with me._ A voice ticked within him. _I could make her happy._

He growled at himself for his conflicting emotions, and repressed the thoughts with memories of Carla. He couldn't keep her safe and happy, despite his best efforts, and she was taken from him, killed by his own hand. She was beautiful and perfect. They were going to have a family together. He had laughed back then, and had smiled. He had friends. And then it was over, destroyed. He lived in a world too cruel for love. It had broken him. He was worthless to others now. He lived only for revenge. To kill Legion was his purpose now. There was no room for love in the blood he meant to spill.

But Lucy…she loved him. She had seen the very worst side of him and still loved him. Lucy, who was brave and honest, who talked too much, who loved her weapons like most people loved pets. His Lucy, who stuck by him when he pushed her away, who kept him alive when he felt like dying, who protected him from everything and everyone, including himself. Lucy loved him.

Boone was shaking his head, trying to clear away pointless thoughts when he saw the chip on the table. He had recognized his gift to her immediately when she had pulled it from her pocket earlier. He was surprised she had still kept it, but supposed he shouldn't have been. Lucy was sentimental. But then, so was he. He instinctively reached up to his chest pocket for the letter he had always kept there, before remembering that he had left it behind, deep in Vault 34. His hand fell away, instead reaching for the abandoned poker chip. It was still warm from Lucy's hands.

She had left it behind on purpose, he knew. She was trying to move on. She deserved to move on.

_I still want her_.

His fist hit the table so hard that the other patrons turned to stare. He couldn't help it; his own thoughts had surprised him, condemned him. Yet he knew it was true the instant it slipped into his mind.

Lucy was like his light in the storm, directing him when he was lost, and he was always so lost. He wanted her by his side. He would follow her anywhere. He didn't want to give her up, not to some sleazy Chairman. No - not to anyone.

He was walking toward the elevator before he even realized he was doing so.

He still loved Carla, still wanted to avenge her, but so help him, he loved Lucy too. He knew he didn't deserve her, but that was her choice to make. He shouldn't have been trying to force her away. Now he might have lost her forever.

Boone pounded on the elevator button for the third time. The thing was unreasonably slow. He turned for the stairs, hoping there was still time, hoping that she hadn't completely given up on him yet.

He loved her; he knew it. Now he wanted nothing but to tell her so.

* * *

Lucy paused outside of Benny's door on the thirteenth floor. She couldn't believe she was actually considering doing this, but here she was. All she had to do now was walk through the door. She took a breath, trying to calm the butterflies in her stomach and the ache in her heart that told her this was a plan she would regret.

"Stupid butterflies," Lucy grumbled and pushed open the door, stepping inside.

She found Benny by the side of the bed, stripping off his checkered jacket to the white-buttoned shirt underneath. He looked up when she entered, and flashed her a smile that she knew he thought was charming. Maybe it was. She couldn't tell. All she could think about was the few times she had seen Boone smile, of how rare an occasion it was, but of how good it felt to have put the smile there on his face. Lucy bet Benny smiled all the time, to anyone.

He sauntered toward her, his brows lowering mischievously. "Benny is going to show you the Tops," he said as he approached. He ran his hands up her arms and down her back as he stepped closer. "I hope you're built sturdy," he added with a smirk.

Lucy placed her hands on his chest, felt the muscle there. She had not expected Benny to have muscle, though as she slid her hands over his shoulders and his arms, she realized that he paled in comparison of Boone's hard figure.

_Boone._

She shook her head, pushing the thoughts away.

"I've got more under these clothes than you ever dreamed, baby," he told her as he leaned to kiss her neck.

Lucy tried to focus, but she knew if he continued to talk she was not going to be able to go through with it. She liked quiet men, who would appreciate her and the moment, rather then spew off useless banter. She always imagined Boone would…

She broke the line of thought by finding Benny's mouth with her own. He kissed her deeply, and wasn't bad at it, but all Lucy could think of was Boone. For one small moment, Lucy tried her hardest and was actually able to convince herself she was kissing Boone rather than Benny. In that moment, their kiss had intensified and sparked, but it passed with a pause for air.

Benny opened his mouth again. "You're platinum, pussycat," he told her with a lick of his lips. He leaned in for another round.

Her hands on his chest tensed. "Wait," she said. She couldn't do this. She never could. She knew that now. It didn't matter if she couldn't have Boone; she loved him. This was a lie, and it was all wrong.

"What's the hold-up, baby?" Benny asked. Still, he was smirking. "Worried the Ben-man might be too much for you?"

Lucy shook her head, repressing the urge to smack him for his ridiculous banter. "I want Boone," she told him honestly, seeing no reason to lie about it.

He leaned in, his eyes narrowing devilishly. With a completely straight face, he said, "I can be whoever you want me to be, pussycat."

Lucy's brow rose. She highly doubted that was true. She bet Benny couldn't stop talking long enough to be anyone but himself. She couldn't help a small laugh just thinking of him trying to be Boone. Wasn't going to happen. She wanted the original anyway.

She still needed the Platinum Chip but she was going to have to figure out another tactic to get it. This was just not going to work.

No sooner had she said, "Sorry, Benny," than did a pounding on the door begin. "Expecting company?" she asked as the door flung open.

Boone was in the doorway.

"Hey, daddio, this is a private party, ya dig?" Benny said, taking a step toward the intruder.

"I knocked," Boone said as he stepped into the room. Without pause, he slugged Benny straight in the jaw. Benny hit the floor without further argument, most-likely unconscious.

Boone turned toward Lucy.

"Boone?" she gasped, as he picked her up and flung her over his shoulder. "What are you doing?"

He didn't reply, just carried her down the hall to the elevators.

Lucy struggled in his hold, not sure what he was planning. She had never seen Boone act this way before. She had no idea what he was thinking. She didn't know what to think herself. She couldn't deny that she was relieved to see him in the doorway, but it was unexpected. _Incredibly_ unexpected.

The elevator door opened, and he stepped inside. He pressed the ground floor button. When the doors closed, he slapped the emergency stop trigger before the elevator could move. Then he placed Lucy down gently on her feet.

For a long moment, she just stood there gaping at him. He looked absolutely conflicted and miserable, with a heavy frown.

"Don't sleep with Benny," he said, and Lucy blinked. It was a little pointless for arguments, considering Benny was now unconscious on his floor and Lucy was trapped in an elevator with a different man.

"I don't…" she began, but Boone continued at the same time. Lucy's voice fell away, knowing Boone usually didn't speak without importance.

"Don't sleep with Benny because I…" he hesitated. Lucy had no idea what he was trying to say. He grunted in apparent frustration and walked away from her to the other end of the elevator.

"I'm broken, Lucy," he began again. He refused to meet her gaze. "I might never be fixed. I might never be able to make you happy. I know I don't deserve the chance."

Lucy couldn't believe her ears. Was Boone really saying what she thought he was saying? No, it had to be some kind of mistake. But it wasn't like him to ramble. "What are you trying to say?" she asked, to clarify.

He took a breath, and at last met her eyes. They stood like that for a long moment, just staring at each other. Lucy would have traded a hundred nights with Benny just to get one minute of Boone's glance in that elevator. She was a fool to think she could want anyone else.

"I don't want to live in the past anymore," he told her.

"Boone?"

"I love you," he said, and Lucy didn't even blink for fear of ending the moment. Was this a dream? She didn't want to wake up if it was.

"Boone," she breathed. They took a step closer at the same time.

"I'm broken," he told her with another step.

"So am I," Lucy replied as she found herself directly in front of him. Her arms wrapped around his neck without delay. His went around her waist, his hands warm on her back. Lucy sighed in sweet relief. This was how it was supposed to be. This was what felt right.

"I don't deserve a second chance," he whispered, his breath hot on her face. His mouth was dangerously close to hers.

Lucy didn't want to argue. Boone was a good person; she knew that. She also knew that to convince him of that would take more than just one conversation in an elevator. That argument could take many years to win, possibly the rest of their lives. She was ready to take up the challenge.

For the moment however, she knew one way to put his mind temporarily at ease. "I don't care," she told him as she kissed the corner of his mouth. She pulled away briefly to say, "I love you." She kissed the other corner. She felt it curve under her touch. When she looked at him again, he was smiling. Her heart raced in excitement, in knowing that she put that smile there. This man was irreplaceable.

"You're the one I want," she told him, and he kissed her.

His hand reached up to touch the side of her face, cupping her cheek as the kiss deepened. His fingertips were soft caresses on her skin. He was so gentle, so adoring, that it was everything Lucy thought it could be. She wanted more, wanted all of him.

"Lucy," he breathed. He broke the kiss to look down at her, as if he simply could not wait to tell her again, "I love you."

3.7.11


End file.
